At First Touch
by DealingDearie
Summary: Teen! Loki/Sigyn one-shot of their first meeting. If you want me to write another Loki/Sigyn or Loki/anyone else that I might realize I ship one-shot, feel free to send a prompt or idea, and hopefully this can be a series. Can't get better than fluff and angst. ;) Feedback is always appreciated.


The very moment, the exact second, that Loki falls in love is not at first sight, or first word, or even first smile; it's at first touch.

The Lady Sigyn is exquisite, her silver dress hugging her every curve as she moves-or glides, really-across the floor, a full glass of bubbling champagne in her loose grip, as if she has no intentions of drinking it, and she absent mindedly turns her head here and there, admiring, as all Asgardians do, the scenery of the golden banquet hall as Loki watches from behind a nearby column, sneaking glances every once in a while so that she doesn't see him.

His heart races, if only racing for the beauty of her face; moon-pale skin stretched over sharp cheekbones, wide eyes like small mirrors as they stare out into the world, the silvery strands of her hair pulled up in a side braid and tapering down to the nape of her neck. No one speaks to her, no one comes up and flirts with her, and for that Loki is halfway grateful, halfway angry.

Angry that someone would ignore such a beautiful woman, looking as lonely as the farthest planet in the farthest galaxy of the midnight sky, the twinkling stars that light the heavens littered within her melancholy gaze, her face shining with something Loki has never seen, and he slinks out of his hiding place to walk up behind her, hands behind his back as he tries not to smile.

Her ears, ears that curve to a sharp point at the tips, flick, and she turns as he approaches, her eyes wide, silvery pupils dilated. Her pink lips part in surprise and Loki can't help but smile down at her, his dark hair and green eyes such a contrast to this colorless form before him, and she blinks up at him.

"I'm Loki," he murmurs, his voice cast low amidst the chatter and cheers of the warriors around him, and he waits for the recognition to spark in her eyes, but if it does she masks it well, and Loki's smile falls, though he doesn't know why.

"I'm Sigyn," she says, and he already knows this, because he's watched her for a good portion of the night, only opting to stay at this ridiculous feast because she was there, and he's asked everyone he knows about her.

_Her_; the half breed, the seer, the mystic, the girl who no one talks to or looks at, the woman who slides through the halls of her own realm without being noticed because no one wants to look into her soulless eyes. But Loki thinks that those people were wrong, as he offers his hand and bows low, swooping close to the floor, and the small gasp he receives is so very worth the show, because when at last he rises, her eyes are brimming with light and joy and surprise, her soul completely exposed in that one glance.

A prince should never bow to anyone but the King, and yet Loki bows to her a second time, if only to smirk as it earns him a tiny smile, a curve of those enticing lips as she takes his hand.

And then there is fire, or perhaps an explosion, or maybe Loki's just gone completely insane, but it's there, nonetheless.

His hand feels a slow burn, and the sensation spreads, branches relentlessly, to the rest of his body, and he swallows thickly, gazing at her as her own face flushes with red color, like the splash of blood on a white dress. Her eyes are wide and her breaths are short, as if from some great exertion, and Loki tightens his hold on her hand, because how could he not?

How could he release the sensation of her touch, the all-consuming rush coursing through his veins like liquid fire?

"May I have this dance?" Loki asks, near breathless, and Sigyn nods, wide eyed as he leads her to the dance floor, music wafting through the hall as he puts his hand on her waist, too enamored with her to do otherwise, and her arm snakes over his shoulder like water running over his body; smooth and lovely, a refreshing sense of relief washing over him.

He loops his other hand around to press his palm flat against her upper back, taking slow breaths as he remembers that her dress has a low back, and the feel of her pale skin beneath his fingertips makes his heart swell with an emotion entirely foreign to him.

And by the way Sigyn's heart is drumming through her back, she feels it, too.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;) All rights go to their respectful owners. **

**Want me to write another Sigyn/Loki one-shot? Or Loki/Natasha, even? (I ship both) Send a prompt or idea and I'll try. I love prompts! And fluff! Fluff is the best-well, fluff and angst. xD **


End file.
